


Baby, It's Cold Outside

by KyberChronicles



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Holiday-esque Setting, Morning After, Non-Explicit Sex, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 17:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13081845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyberChronicles/pseuds/KyberChronicles
Summary: Maybe it had been the cold.  Maybe it had been the loneliness of the holiday season.  Maybe the whiskey had been the final, successful strike of the match to light the fire that had been building between them for over a year.Whatever the reason, she had slowly twisted her fingers into the front of his shirt, pulled him even closer to her, and kissed him.





	Baby, It's Cold Outside

_He pressed his forehead to her collarbone, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw, fighting against his release._

Make it last, _he begged himself._ Make it good. 

_He held her reverently, fingers clutching at the bare skin of her back like his life depended on it.  When his name rasped out of her mouth as a plea, high-pitched and breathless, he moved his trembling hands down to her hips.  As his thrusts became harder, more purposeful, he tried desperately to keep his focus away from the feel of her clenching around him, hot and wet and tight.  He was light-headed with it, each slide into her so good it bordered on pain._

_Her hands were in his hair, and he pressed a messy kiss to her sternum, half-delirious.  He felt her muscles contracting around him and his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head._

_"Yes," he breathed.  "Ye--"_

 

Cassian snapped awake.

It was usually nightmares that pulled him into consciousness with his heart hammering in his chest, hands clammy, breath short.  This was… well, it was a welcome deviation from the norm.  A _very_ welcome deviation.  He turned his head into the pillow, burrowing into it to try and block out the noise and light so he could fall back asleep and hopefully pick right back up where the dream had ended.

And that’s when he noticed that there was no noise to block out.  No blaring alarm, no footsteps from the people in the apartment above him, no faint voices or TV noises from his neighbors next door, no cars speeding by on the street below.  All was eerily silent, save the still-slowing beat of his own heart in his ears.

He also realized that he wasn’t curled up on his too-old, lumpy mattress and flat, threadbare pillow.  Honestly, he must’ve fallen asleep on an _actual cloud_ .  The material under and around him was too soft and warm for him to believe otherwise.  It felt positively _decadent_ , which might’ve explained why he felt so disoriented.  He was usually an extremely light sleeper-- when he _did_ sleep, for a few, too-short hours.  But he felt like he just been pulled out of a coma.

Nevertheless, Cassian cracked open an eye.  The room, which was decidedly not his, was bathed in a dim, grayish-blue light.  It made everything look like he was in a black and white movie-- the bare white walls didn’t help.  He opened his other eye and turned over to find windows covered in white shades, but more importantly, the faint, empty imprint of another person next to him on the bed.  The covers were flipped back in their absence.

It came flooding back to him, all at once.

It hadn’t been a dream.  

It was a memory.

He and Jyn had slept together.

In _every_ meaning of the phrase.

He was still at her apartment, in her bed.  And she was gone.

_Shit._

Cassian sat up and rubbed his face.  He had been surprised that she had invited him over last night in the first place, since she never had before-- in fact, he had only seen it once, when he had taken her home after she had lost a drinking contest to Baze at Bodhi’s birthday party.  Most of the time, they just went out or hung out at his place.  And platonically, at that.  Hell, they had never even kissed before, barely even hugged!  He hadn’t thought she saw him that way, and he was fine with that.  He figured he’d hide his feelings until they faded with time.  Her friendship, the place in his life that she had stormed in and claimed against his will, was far too important to risk.

He stared at the empty side of the bed.  

_Fuck._

* * *

 

“Come over,” she had texted him the previous evening.  “Take a break, you fucking workaholic.”

She had caught him, of course.  He had been working twelve hour days, trying to cover for all the people who had not bothered to come back into the office after the holiday party.  He had barely seen her since Thanksgiving, really.  Still, he had almost told her no, as he stared at the pile of work on his desk.

“C’mon, it’s cold and miserable out,” she had texted. “And the holidays. So. Even worse.”

Jyn wasn’t one to push, which was why he found himself knocking on her door, while huddling inside of his blue, puffy coat.  When she opened the door, clad in a old, ratty t-shirt and sweatpants that were too big for her, her smile had dazzled him a bit.

“Ho ho ho,” he had deadpanned, and she had cackled before ushering him inside.

It had started so innocently: a viewing of _Die Hard_ (he had teased her for making him watch a “Christmas movie”) complete with whiskey on the rocks for both of them.

Neither of them had been drunk, though.  Not even tipsy.  Just warm and comfortable.

Perhaps too comfortable, now that he thought about it.  

Because slowly, unknowingly they had inched closer and closer together on her couch as the movie progressed, between their laughing and talking over it.  Before he realized it, she was almost pressed against his side, leaning back on the cushion that he had stretched his arm across when he had sat down.  

He vaguely remembered looking over at her and noticing the lack of space between them.  

Maybe it had been the cold.  Maybe it had been the loneliness of the holiday season.  Maybe the whiskey had been the final, successful strike of the match to light the fire that had been building between them for over a year.

Whatever the reason, she had slowly twisted her fingers into the front of his shirt, pulled him even closer to her, and kissed him.  

For a few seconds, it was a soft, chaste, inquisitive thing. When she began to pull away, he chased her, his hand sliding down from the couch to press against her back.  Not pushing her, not keeping her from moving away again if she wanted to.  Just a gentle, silent request:

 _Don’t go_.

He heard her sharply inhale, and then she had lunged forward again, her lips moving insistently against his, her hands in his hair.  Then her tongue was in his mouth and he had moaned or growled or… something.  

And things had escalated.  Quickly.

But when her hand snuck down the front of his pants, he had grabbed her arm.

“Wait!” he had gasped.  “Wait.”  

Her hands and lips had immediately frozen, then she began to pull away with a look that he recognized as her closing herself off from him.

“Jyn,” he breathed, keeping his hold on her arm.  “I’m not saying no.”

She had looked up at him.

“I’m just saying that… y’know. It’s been awhile,” he continued, a bit sheepishly.

The skin of her neck was flushed red from the scratch of his facial hair, her lips swollen.  She had tossed her shirt behind the couch awhile ago, and he was trying very hard not to focus on her chest as it moved with her exerted breaths.

“I want this to last,” he finally explained.  It was a fairly hopeless desire, since the one touch of her hand had brought him closer than he cared to admit, but he’d try his best. For her.

She had stood up, then, her eyes blazing.  She had slowly peeled off the remainder of her clothes as he helplessly watched, and then held out her hand.  

“C’mon, Andor,” she had grinned at his dumbfounded expression.  “Take me to bed.”

And so he had.

* * *

 

Cassian blinked against the images his memory offered up to him, shaking his head to clear it.  Yes, the previous night had all felt like some sort of perfect dream, but with the morning came the reality of what it all meant.  What would this do to their friendship? Would it even be possible to go back to that, if that’s what Jyn wanted?

He certainly knew what _he_ wanted.

But what did _she_ want?

There was only one way to find out, so Cassian forced himself out of her obscenely comfortable bed, pulled on his boxers, and left the bedroom.

He found her in her small kitchen, looking out the window with her hands curled around a large mug of steaming tea.  She was wrapped in a blanket, with one bare curve of her shoulder revealed.  He had to steel himself against pressing his lips to the skin there, until he saw it tense.  She must’ve heard him.

“It snowed last night,” she said, softly.  

He approached her slowly, unsure of how much space she wanted.  He glanced out the window when he was close enough to see.  It had snowed a _lot_.  He must’ve missed the weather reports somehow-- there was a good foot of snow on the ground, and it was still coming down pretty hard.  

Well.  He certainly wasn’t going anywhere for awhile.

He longed to skip the talk they needed to have, to simply just pull her back into bed and explore the new world that had opened up to them.  It felt like the universe, for once, was giving them a break-- a snow day, as it were-- and all he wanted was to take full advantage of it.

 _You selfish bastard_ , he cursed at himself.   _This isn’t about you._

“I’m… sorry,” Jyn said, suddenly.

Cassian blinked.

“For what?” he asked, truly confused.

“Because, I mean… you can’t leave.  You’re stuck here.”

He realized, then, that Jyn had been the brave one that previous night.  She had made all of the first moves, from kissing him to pulling him into her bedroom to whispering for him to stay as they fell asleep afterwards.  All he had to do was follow her lead, and he was obviously more than happy to do so.

But perhaps, now, he needed to be the brave one.  

Back in the first months of their friendship, before they really knew each other that well, they had gotten into an argument over what had turned out to be nothing but a miscommunication.  Jyn had taken his “I have to work” excuse as merely that: an excuse.  She had immediately cut off all contact with him, ignoring his texts and calls, until he finally had Bodhi help with tricking into being at their favorite bar the same time as him.  Even then, she had refused to talk to him, refused to tell him what was wrong.

Eventually he had taken her hands in his (which had certainly gotten her attention-- she wasn’t used to being touched) and laid everything out on the line for her.  

“Jyn,” he had said.  “If I didn’t want to see you, I’d tell you.  And I want to see you.  I _always_ want to see you.  I promise.”

They had mended things, after that.

Cassian never considered himself good with words.  He wasn’t much of a talker in the first place.  But perhaps words were what Jyn needed, now, that all the actions had been done.

And so:

“How many times do I have to tell you that I _always_ want to see you?” he asked.

He watched as the tension slowly melted out of her shoulders.  She turned her head towards him, and he was relieved to see a tentative smile on her lips.  But cool relief turned to heat when her movement caused the blanket around her shoulders to fall a few inches.

 _Fuck_.  He swallowed.

“I, um, especially want to see you like this, though,” he continued, stepping closer to her and pressing his lips into her hair.  “I could actually do with _more_. Of this.”

Jyn hummed in what seemed like surprised pleasure as he moved his mouth to her neck and placed a slow, wet kiss there.

After all, actions did speak louder than words.  Sometimes.

“So you don’t regret…” Jyn asked, her breath hitching.

He immediately stopped, put his hands on her shoulders, and turned her to face him.  

“No, Jyn. Not at all,” he told her, seriously.

He paused.

“Do you?”

“No.”  

Her answer was quick, but decisive.  Cassian let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding, and then huffed a short chuckle.

“I… I have no idea what happens next,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Me either,” Jyn said, ducking her head.  His eyes were drawn to the bare skin of her shoulders again.

“I know what I _want_ to happen next,” he ventured, gently taking the mug from her hands and pulling her to him by the edges of her blanket-shawl.  

Jyn hummed again, pressing her hands against his stomach.  They were warm.

“And after that?” she asked, tilting her chin up to look at him.

He bent down until his lips were nearly touching hers.

“Pancakes,” he whispered.

She blinked.  

“Pancakes?”

He nodded, barely letting his lips brush hers.

“We’ll need sustenance.  After all, who knows how long I’ll be ‘stuck’ here?”

Jyn shoved at him and Cassian laughed, his heart light and hopeful.  He grabbed her hands and pulled her into him to finally kiss her soundly on the lips.  When he pulled away, he grinned.

“Come on, Erso.  Take me to bed.”

And so she did.

**Author's Note:**

> I have never written smut in my life and I feel very embarrassed. There were also other things I should've been writing, but you know how it is.
> 
> These two DO deserve a snow day, though. I'm at least glad I could give them that.
> 
> (I know "Baby It's Cold Outside" is considered the most non-consensual song EVER, but I'm deciding to NOT take it like that and see it as consensual and only flirtatiously, pretend-ingly reluctant.)


End file.
